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Warming Fire on a roadtrip [ 26th, noon]- Xmas 1677

Heather O`Roarke

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O'Roarke Hall was situated near the mainroad of Chelsea, a few mansions down from the St. George Inn and neighbouring Fulham Palace on the other side. It had an impressive drive way, with a stable and carriage house to the right side that included guest stabling. The snow on the gravel muffled the distinctive sound of guests arriving. Yet boys awaited in the stables.


The two storey high black and white Tudor cottage house had been expanded on either side with extra rooms, including a wing on the right dedicated entirely to guests. Rough empthy bushes with thornes grew against the outside of the house like some kind of fairy tale. The front of the cottage had a large but simple porch that kept the waiting servants out of the snow.


Staff was efficient and quiet, and helped any visitors inside, announcing them to the lady in residence.


The study of the Countess was filled with bookcases, making it almost like a library, though smaller than one would expect of a lady so interested in the written word. On a side table there was a first folio volume of the complete works of Shakespeare, a large and expensive tome. The room´s furniture included a luxurious red velvet chaissez longuee as well as the lady´s green leather writing desk and a few comfortable chairs near the fireplace, which due to the day's cold was full ablaze.


The windows overlooked the terrace, showing a grim view of the empty dead garden and the frozen Thames beyond.


Heather had slept in this morning, but still mounted her beloved horse early enough. It was past noon now and she had her fill of her children, including Jo. There was a delight in dismissing them to their nanny, all three of them. Good god, the noise and nuisance they could make. One can't live with or without them, she reflected. The bright redhead took a deep sigh and sipped from mulled wine, not expecting much of today.

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  • 3 weeks later...

Ever since their French mademoiselle had let slip that Heather had a book with some very interesting information in it, with some pages about him, Buckingham had been meaning to pay his dear friend a little visit. It was Christmastime, after all, and his Virgin Mary* was due some reverence.


Of course, he was not going to let on that there was any purpose to his visit at all, so he had taken to horse for a ride through the countryside; it was a windless day, so less blistering to hit a gallop.


It was no strange thing to show up at a friend's unannounced to break a journey and most especially when you were a duke.


When you were George Villiers, you thought hospitality to your person was an honour and a privilege, an expected action of court society, and also of the Villiers ego. Friends and allies or not, Buckingham was still Buckingham. He was wily, and he was vain, but he was an impeccable friend. One had to take the bad with the good.


Used to York, Heather would know all about taking the bad with the good. He still had little idea how she did it.


It was in that vein that Buckingham arrived at her home in Chelsea under the guise of breaking his ride to warm up and catch up with a dear friend.


(OOC - for our newer players, when Brian played Buckingham, he and Heather lasciviously had sex while Heather was super preggers over a Christmas season and Buckingham called her that )

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